


A Mess of Miscellaneous The Glass Scientist micro-fanfictions

by hydesboy



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydesboy/pseuds/hydesboy
Summary: This is where I'm going to post any micro-fanfictions (no more that 1,000 words maximum) based on Sabrina Cotugno's 'The Glass Scientists'





	1. There's Worse Places To Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy these, I'll try to make these fun for you all!

The bloody sun itself was mocking him. Or so was the first thought to flash through the addled mind of the slowly awakening individual, sunlight shining directly into his eyes from a crack in the curtain, because of course it was, why on earth should he be permitted another damned moment of much needed sleep? He had barely finished cursing the sun in all its pretentious glory before a significantly more pressing thought came to mind. Slowly, almost fearfully, he brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair – the familiar wiry, long mess answering his question even before he caught sight of his blond mess had – revealing the unruly hair of Edward Hyde. Brilliant. He had managed to regain control despite stumbling to bed in a drunken stupor. This thought led to another realization, despite the steady pounding in the back of his brain he could tell right away that he was entirely not in his bed – or more specifically Jekyll’s bed – and he could not place where he was, and he could hear the steady breath of a person asleep beside him.  
Hyde shuffled just a little, making it subtle enough for it to be completely possible that he was still asleep if the other person was awake, coming to the conclusion that yes, he was still wearing his clothes. This did not answer any of his questions whatsoever. Stretching out his leg very carefully he was able to ascertain that this was as state shared by his currently unknown companion.  
It would, of course, be easiest for him to simply slip away now before whoever it was woke up, vanishing like a puff of smoke with the rising sun. Just because it should have been easy in theory, the moment he actively made to slip out of the bed, the other person shifted.  
“D’you know if you were still snuggling me when I went to sleep?” a voice mused, slurred just that little but with sleep.  
A familiar voice.  
A very familiar voice.  
Damn.  
Damn damn damn!  
Rachel Pidgley.  
How the hell did he manage to wind up in Rachel’s bed? Bloody hell, he must have drunk significantly more than he thought.  
He had two options, pretend he was still asleep and hope she falls back to sleep, or to so eloquently explain the situation.  
“I don’t bloody snuggle!” Nailed it. Truly verbose and expressive.  
Despite his truly convincing argument, somehow Rachel didn’t seem to buy this. “You wrapped your arms around me and you curled up like a little kitten. I’d call that snuggling.”  
The particularly short man did not like the sleepy amusement that was all too clear in her tone, and so with a huff and a particularly pointed movement, he sat up and made to get up. However, the sudden motion meant he was well and truly hit with the nausea of his hangover. Ah, the consequences of his actions, how little it was that he actually had to bother himself with something so largely irrelevant, and even more importantly, tedious as actually having to care about what happens next. Disgusting. Almost as disgusting as he currently felt.  
“Oh no you don’t,” the cook scolded gently, “You need your sleep, so sleep.”  
For a moment he considered rejecting this, perhaps with a dramatic exclamation of something along the lines of ‘How dare you tell me, the embodiment of sin and debauchery, what to do, vile wretch?!’ or something of that ilk, but instead he sighed a second time.  
“Don’t disturb me.”  
With this said, he fell flat on his face onto the pillows in a cloud of gold, almost immediately falling back to a much-needed sleep. He could get up and sneak out later.  
After all, there were worse places to get a couple minutes sleep.


	2. The Worst Possible Way To Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lanyon pondered upon the mysterious assistant of Dr. Jekyll, but didn't expect their first meeting to be so... unpleasant

“Hurry the bloody hell up!”  
The man was already running faster than he could recall ever having run before, this putting any obligatory exercise that he had to take part in during his time at school to shame. In fact, he was rather impressed that he even heard the voice of his scampering companion over the sounds of their feet thundering on the cobblestones, the sound bouncing about in a way that was more than a little disorientating.  
“God damn it, man!”  
He had imagined his first meeting with the mysterious ‘assistant’ of Dr. Henry Jekyll countless times, with every scenario under the sun. Or, at least, almost every scenario. Robert Lanyon had not imagined that his first encounter with a certain Mr. Edward Hyde to come about while being chased through unpleasant back alleys while being pursued by nameless but certainly very angry hooligans that had enough of the short blond’s antics. 

“Unless you enjoy getting stomped into the dirt, follow me!”  
“Are you barking mad?”  
“Perhaps, but do you have a better option right now?”  
Why, this young man was positively detestable! Robert could not understand why Henry held him in such high regard – and no, he certainly was not jealous at all! Such a ridiculous prospect, he has no clue as to where you, the most dear and beloved reader, could have ever come up with such a preposterous suggestion – that he does. But worse of all, right not at least, the madman was right! Talking one’s way out of unpleasant situations was always Jekyll’s forte, and while he was able to smile his way through the upper crust, these vagrants were certainly not going to respond to the same kind of faux flattery he was skilled in sharing. If that wasn’t bad enough, the pest was wanting him to follow him onto the bloody rooftops! He wasn’t sure the kind of physical prowess the youth may possess, already scampering up a drainpipe, but he sure as hell was not comfortable with doing so.  
“Move your arse, you damned rich brat!”   
“I beg your pardon?”   
Even with all levels of aghast offense that the aristocrat experienced at this moment, a brief glance over his shoulder set him attempting the perilous climb, after all, no one wants to face an angry mob even if he had done nothing wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong! He had simply been walking down the street before being pulled along by a man he recognised only by brief descriptions he had been given, resulting in him being likewise threatened by the mob through simple association.  
Thank the lord he was not too terribly unfit, scaling the wall in a most undignified manner, not daring to take another glance back, unwilling to see how close he was to absolute disaster.   
“Not bad, my man! Not bad at all!”   
Much like a grotesque gargoyle, Hyde greeted the man that crawled his way onto the rooftop in a crouch, unnaturally green eyes regarding Lanyon with an odd kind of intense, penetrating gaze, his smile twisted up in a way that way no more natural, twitching just a wee bit to add to the effect.  
“Think we gave them the slip, eh, Lanyon?”  
“What on earth did you do?”  
One must give Robert credit, he was not too wholly out of breath despite having to sprint in order to keep up with the laughably shorter individual, and then having to climb a building. It couldn’t be hidden that he was of good breeding, dusting himself off when he rose to his feet, pretending to not be put off by the unfamiliar environment of the rooftops that his bizarre companion seemed to make his home.  
“Just a misunderstanding, they’ll cool off eventually.”  
“And if they don’t?”  
The laugh that Hyde produced at this was grating on the ear, and Lanyon would feel no shame in the admittance of the fact he cringed away at the assault on his ears. It took an oddly long time for him to regain what little composure he had, a fact that was a wee bit unsettling.  
“Then damn them all to the deepest level of Dante’s Inferno!”


	3. Christmas preparations gone arwy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel just wants to make nice treats, Hyde just is a pain

A fresh scent of warm, freshly baked cookies blended deliciously with the far sharper smells of ginger and cinnamon, the heavenly aroma filling the large kitchen with a particularly Christmassy feeling. The chef was humming a cheery tune – a tune she had previously picked up from carollers in the town square when she was out earlier – a pleasant smile curled across her face as she took a near ridiculously large plate of seasonal goodies out of the oven.  
“Whatcha doing?”  
She had been entirely certain that she had been alone, and so the unexpected voice made her jump a little. Depositing the tray on a nearby bench, she turned on her heels, searching for the source with wide, startled eyes.  
Her brief fear faded away faster than it had appeared, a warm – if not rather amused – smile graced her face when she caught sight of the familiar figure crouching in the open window.  
“Oh! It’s just you again, Master Hyde! You do know there is a door, don’t you? You don’t need to keep coming in through the window?” Rachel commented, a good-natured laughed in her voice, “But yes, I thought I should take up Mr. Doddle’s challenge so here I am! Trying to make a gingerbread village!” As she said this, she gestured to the hunks of gingerbread, the larger pieces reaching a wee bit longer than her forearm.  
“Don’t villages usually have, oh I don’t know, more than one dismantled house?” Edward asked, shifting into a seated position, his legs hanging off the edge of the bench, his feet rather amusingly hanging far from the floor, his mockery coming in a more light-hearted nature.  
With a dramatic huff, she turned to her freshly backed treated, peering over her shoulder, “I’ve only just started!” said she in defence, catching his eye, her far more natural green making his all the more unsettling and unnatural, both shining with amusement.  
“I’m helping.” Hyde decided, this being said with much the tone that implied that she had no say in his contribution,  
Though she did sigh, making a particular show of contemplating chasing him out, likely with a broom – a situation of which she had jokingly threatened in the past – before shrugging just a little bit.  
“If you can make yourself useful, I won’t complain of a second pair of hands.”  
“I can assure you, madam, that my hands are more than capable.” came his response, just a little bit of a purr in his voice, a purr that resulted in her throwing a towel at his face, causing him to squeak a scandalised, “Oi!”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Rachel chuckled, “Hold those up, would you?” she said of the large cookie pieces, “Don’t let go of them until I say so. If you do it well, I’ll let you decorate one side.”  
Hyde saluted this in a notably overdramatic manner, letting her prop the pieces into position before scuttling over to hold them up. The look of determination on his face as he held it steady was almost laughable, staring intently at one side of the cookie wall as the woman iced the walls in order to get them to stay in place.  
“I’m bored.” Edward whined after absolutely not long enough to justify complaining about it, pouting as he looked up at Rachel, who swatted him cautiously with the towel, making sure that she didn’t risk the dessert being damaged in the process.  
Despite all of Hyde’s complaining, it really was not all that long until the pieces had set and dried, leaving a delightfully set gingerbread house, the result being approximately the size of her torso and smelling unequivocally divine.  
“I said you could help decorate, so here,” she said, offering him a piping bag as she turned to fetch the candy – created by Mr. Doddle, approved by Dr. Jekyll – from the other side of the room, “Nothing vulgar or distasteful, if you don’t mind.”  
The short little fellow poked his tongue out at her, but nonetheless proceeded to decorate to his heart’s content.  
It was to no surprise that by the time they had finished decorating the side Rachel was working on was an elegant masterpiece and Edward’s was a discordant mess, much the same fate had befallen the decorators. Hyde had somehow managed to get himself covered in icing, a chunk of particularly solid icing having glued his blond fringe up, which Rachel would surely have escaped the mess entirely had the man not run sticky, icing covered fingers across her cheek, leaving a trail where they had been.  
“Now, I just need to attach the little wreath and I can say the first house will he officially done!” delighted the chef, turning to grab the cute little candy wreath she had made.  
It was a foolish decision to turn away, on her behalf, as the moment her back was to the treat they had put so much hard work into making nice, there was a worrying giggle from the man. Unfortunately for her, she was unable to turn back in time to stop the inevitable, but instead witnessed straight on Hyde jumping up and bringing his fists down on the gingerbread house, the house shattering into an unsalvageable mess of sweet shards, his high pitched, hoarse laughter still audible over the devastating crunch.  
“Edward Hyde!” she shouted, distraught, “You get out of here right now! You monster!”  
Swiping the largest piece he could reach, the blond happily obliged, scampering out of the kitchen, shoving the gingerbread into his mouth as he left the utter destruction in his wake, leaving the poor chef to not only clean the devastation – how on earth did he manage to get a bit of the wall stuck on the roof? – but to remake the house from scratch.  
Oh well. She had fun and, hey, it’s Christmas, and so with a laugh she set about looking for whatsoever was salvageable from the mess.


	4. An ungentlemanly awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to a certain blond, the other occupant of the body feels bloody wretched. 
> 
> (Apologies for the shortness of the chapter)

A grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death.  
No, it wasn’t the agonising torture of transformation that so tormented the poor doctor, no but he wished it were for he knew that it would not linger had that been the case. It was something far simpler than that, but in turn was so much worse.  
The good doctor Henry Jekyll had a hangover.  
If he had allowed himself to entertain the possibility that the throbbing pain in his head could not possibly get worse, an attempt to lift himself up from the uncomfortable facedown position he had been proved that he could indeed feel so much worse. More ominously however, was that by striking his head on something hard had revealed that he was not in the plush bed of his home, nor was he in the small house he had rented out for Hyde – or, indeed, somewhere horribly disreputable that the blond had chosen to entertain his fancy – but somewhere wholly different. A certain somewhere that, following some undignified scrambling, was revealed to be under a park bench.   
It was a mighty effort if there ever was one to even be able to drag himself into a somewhat upright position, his legs threatening to give way without even a moments notice, giving the poor man the general appearance of a newborn deer, unable to find their feet. His half-hearted musings on his instability of stance was interrupted by insistent burning in the back of his throat, a new wave of nausea washing over him like a wave, and –   
Still doubled over, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – gloveless, he noted with little more than mild interest as the other was still within the fine white cloth – as he regained his breath before he even dared straighten.   
It came as much relief for the most pitiful scientist that there was no one close enough to see his horribly unseemly, ungentlemanly display, nor had he been seen crawling out from underneath a bench in a public park at near midday. Even now, in such a wretched state, he cared greatly for how he was seen by the general public, trying to maintain an obviously feigned air of comfortable wellness about him. Why, he even tried to arrange the unfitting clothes of Edward Hyde in a way that would at least make him appear somewhat presentable at least, before relenting and simply drawing the tattered cloak around him before setting off on the unpleasant walk back home, cursing the name of Hyde with every step.


	5. Questions remain unanswered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert wants to know precisely who Hyde is, a feat that is harder to do when the man in question is absent
> 
> (a little longer than 1,000 whoops)

While the gentleman was not rightly sure of quite what it was that he was hoping to achieve through his snooping, however out of all the thing he was expecting – some deep dark secret perhaps, or an explanation to what dark hold the mysterious Edward Hyde had over his dear friend – but what he held now was certain not one of them. Papers detailing the renting of a house in Soho. Was Henry Jekyll paying for the lodgings for his mysterious ‘assistant?’ The mere thought of it made his skin crawl unpleasantly, who on earth was this Hyde to him and what kind of hold does he have over poor Jekyll?   
Of course, there was only one way to sufficiently put an end to this mystery, even if fate was so determined to make it that their paths seemed destined never to cross, and this was to track the enigmatic fellow to the source. He had the source now, written as clear as day upon the page – or at least it was an address, and that was still something as it would logically suggest where he may while away the few hours that didn’t consist of him climbing in through his friend’s window at all hours, the thought of this making poor Lanyon huff – and with little effort, was copied across to a spare scrap of paper that had been littering the table amongst the organised chaos of other pages with varying degrees of adornments.   
There was no time like the present, even if the venture was largely undesirable. A quick fixing of his clothes – a rich purple of the bourgeoise – and he was off, striding purposefully from the room before his nerve failed him, as he was sure that it would if he allowed himself even a moment to dwell upon the matter of his excursion.   
Robert had never once set foot anywhere even remotely close to the proximity of Soho – of course not, a man of his status should never dream of being found in such a horribly disreputable hive of villainy and sin – and so his nerves were unashamedly higher than usual.   
How, in the name of whatsoever god was out there, was it worse there than he had expected?  
The man felt very much like he was wearing a massive target around his neck and a sign reading ‘Rob me! It’ll be easy!’ and he hated it. Even keeping his head low, doing all that was humanly possible to draw as little attention to the fact that he did not belong there, he could still see enough to boost his pace. All sorts of folk emerging from grimy alleyways and talking in all sorts of voices to others in the grimy streets. Grimy people in grimier streets, and then there was he, trying very hard not to meet the eye of a scantly clad young lady on the street – in the middle of the day! Could you imagine?! – as he passed by, a pointed look at the address he had written out before he left on his far too hasty expedition.   
Thankfully it did not take the man long to reach his mysterious destination, a journey that certainly felt longer than it had been, and Robert found himself largely underwhelmed by it all. He wasn’t completely sure of what he was expecting, but the slightly rundown apartment block was not it.  
“Wot d’ yew want?”  
He had barely moved his hand away from knocking before a voice from the opening door made him jump back in alarm.  
“Is this the residence of a Mr. Edward Hyde?” Lanyon asked, recovering with a swiftness that impressed himself somewhat.  
The older woman narrowed her eyes at the man, an impertinence he didn’t quite enjoy, letting a silence fill the air for so long that he couldn’t help but wonder if she was perhaps hard of hearing, though he had barely opened his mouth to repeat the question before she cut him off.  
“Who are ye?” the landlady asked, sounding suspicious, and rightly so considering the circumstanced.  
“I am a friend of his,” said he, wanting very much to shudder at the thought, “Is he in?” His voice was perfectly pleasant despite everything.  
“’e hasn’t been ‘ere for a’ least a month.” she stated simply, unsure if she should trust the man still.  
“Oh, that is most unfortunate. You see, he has something of mine that I wish to recover.” The lies were flowing smoothly, a touch of the necessity of an upper-class upbringing – charming lies to flatter – coming as great use now, “I was wondering, madam, if I could take a moment to retrieve it?”  
Another agonisingly long silence followed this, the smile he held feeling more obviously false with every prolonged heartbeat that passed.  
“I shan’t be a moment, I assure you,” he reiterated, “Edward informed me that I may collect my belongings when I have time that suits me.”  
“Ye got ten minutes. Don’ take wot ain’t yers.”   
With this said, she ushered him to where he knew Henry was paying for this excruciatingly unfamiliar to stay, which, if the landlady was telling the truth, was not a frequent occurrence.   
He had not been expecting to be left alone there considering the woman’s reluctance to even let him in, but after repeating the time limit and letting him in she promptly turned and returned to whatsoever menial task she was engaging before his arrival.  
Left to his own devices, he hadn’t the foggiest where to begin.  
The room was a wee bit of a mess, the odd shirt left out, a pair of shoes scattered about the floor, the lacy garter of some unknown woman tossed carelessly by the poorly made bed. Despite the minor disarray the room was still lavishly decorated, even the odd piece of fine art adorning the walls that he could have only assumed was a gift from Jekyll, making it look rather lovely.   
One of the shirts, he noticed with a degree of interest, was notably larger than the others, but nothing seemed suspicious until he caught sight of a poorly hidden cravat.   
A poorly hidden red cravat.  
The familiar red cravat of Henry Jekyll.  
Poking around a little following this discovery led to his uncovering of an equally familiar waistcoat of the same colour and from the same owner, shoved into the dresser with little care, left behind after god knows what!  
This was all that he needed to see. Thanking the woman for her time, he stormed off, barely sparing a moment of thought for those he passed on his way.  
He was not jealous.  
He was not jealous.  
He was not jealous!  
Oh god, he was jealous!   
Jealous of someone he hadn’t even bloody meant? How horribly unseemly, ungentlemanly, and so terribly human.

Practically slamming the door open, Lanyon had not even realised that he had reached his destination, spending the walk absolutely fuming. In fact, until he was Jekyll jump at his sudden appearance in the office, he wasn’t even aware that he was going there at all.  
“I know about you and Hyde!” Lanyon exclaimed loudly, his voice cracking with emotion.  
“You know?” came Jekyll’s reply, his voice oddly soft, a clear note of poorly hidden fear within his voice, his eyes slightly wider than they were.  
“Yes, I bloody know!” he could hear that he was verging on hysterics and he hated it, “I know you two are sleeping together!”  
Lanyon couldn’t understand why Jekyll was laughing at this, but laugh he did, a relieved and almost tinny laugh that he felt was highly inappropriate considering the nature of their conversation.


	6. More questions than answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyde finds it all the more fun to agree with misconceptions. 
> 
> (Features unsavory language language)

The rich purple of the glass glittered in the candlelight, the royal hue melting into a deep, emerald green that lightened considerably over the long minute that the vial was held up in the light. Finally, after what felt like an excruciating long time, made all the longer by a voice that simultaneously belonged to himself and a stranger whispering horrid, unrepeatable corruptions of the soul and ghastly sins into his ear. Could he really justify doing this again? Of course not, but the exchange offered him at least a moment of much needed relief. For even the briefest of reliefs, he truly would offer his soul to the devil, and in a way, he had.  
The glass was cold against his bottom lip, cold and ever so tempting. He shouldn’t, this he knew full well, but, god, it was good, irresistible almost. The liquid contained in the beaker had grown to the temperature of the air, but the moment it filled his mouth and was swallowed away everywhere the liquid had touched felt as though it was burning. His nerves were quickly set aflame, his skin felt as though it was stretching and altering, absolute agony shocking his senses, causing him to drop to his knees, his eyes screwed up tight.  
It hurt.  
By god, did it hurt.  
It hurt so much.  
It felt wrong.  
It felt so horrible.  
It felt so sickening.  
It felt so good.  
Good god, it felt amazing!  
Once dark hair fell in golden waved cascading about the man’s face, brushing a tuft from his unnaturally green eyes with one taloned hand. A burst of laughter shook through his body, his head thrown back with the force, making his pathetic attempt at fixing his hair wholly redundant.  
It took an effort to regain what little composure he could muster, still shaking just a little bit. He took a deep, almost sensual breath, running his hand through his hair once more, relishing the glorious feeling that came from being himself.  
¬^¬  
He really didn’t want to be a bother. No, he was sure that Dr. Jekyll had far more important matters to attend to, but he had said that if he needed to help, he just needed to ask, and he was in need of some help, or at least someone to bounce ideas off.  
Oh, he didn’t want to bother the proper scientists, but he could do it, he wasn’t going to be an inconvenience, or at least he hoped that would be the case.  
It was the middle of the night after all, he didn’t want to intrude at such a late hour, the man surely needed to rest after all. Did Dr. Jekyll rest? He wasn’t quite sure.  
What the young werewolf was sure of, however, was that he had been standing in the hallway, only a few footsteps away from the door for far too long that it was certainly getting odd, or at least it felt odd from his own perspective.  
Jasper almost turned to leave, but an odd, almost moaning breath was audible even from the distance he stood, followed moments later by the door he was so hesitant to knock swinging open.  
¬^¬  
Fuck.  
There was most certainly not meant to be anybody else out at that hour, or at least not so close to Jekyll’s laboratory. His unsettlingly green eyes met the startled brown of the young werewolf’s and, in an odd reflex left over from the dreadfully tedious Jekyll, his hand found itself resting against his chest, able to feel the intense racing of heart that came as a result of the formula. His green waistcoat was perfectly fine, crinkled certainly but it was not what made his stomach drop, but instead it was the cravat.  
Red.  
Fucking shit.

He had grabbed the wrong bloody cravat. Of course he did, the one ruddy night he had to run into someone they both knew he had to fuck up and wear something that was custom made for the doctor. Bloody hell.  
“I… I didn’t know you both were sleepin’ together?” the farm chap asked.  
This question came as much a relief to the man. Their secret was not so easily exposed, thank god, and not only that, the misconception was absolutely hilarious! Sleeping together! It was all he could do to not cackle at the absurdity of it all.  
“Why?” Hyde asked, taking a step or two forward, deciding it was not only easier to play along, but far funnier for him to do so, “Did you want to join us?” As he spoke, his voice a low croon, he gently ran a finger across the taller farmer’s jaw. Or at least until Jasper jumped back, waving his handing in a panicked denial.  
“N-no! I… I jus’ didn’t know, that’s all!”  
The squeak in the young man’s voice delighted the other, who was doing all he could to prevent the hysteria burning in the back of his throat from taking him.  
“Suit yourself, option’s always there. I’m sure Henry would be most delighted for you to join us,” he paused to enjoy the blushing of the other’s cheeks before adding, “But I wouldn’t disturb him right now, he’s hardly in a state to see others.”  
Hyde winked and licked his lips, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and with that, he leapt out the nearest window and out into the night, leaving Jasper reeling in the hallway for several moments longer.


	7. Sensory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasper's senses have been heightened ever since he was infected.

It was not a surprise that a werewolf would have heightened senses, even when they hadn’t transformed, Jasper had simply accepted this as a fact and had, over time, grown more accustomed to the consistent onslaught on the senses that life brought. Having just returned to a human state, it was all the more intense than usual. Of course, he was only a newly infected werewolf, so he struggled at times, but the hope of it becoming simply his ordinary made it altogether far more bearable. It was bearable.

Or at least was usually bearable. He had lived on a farm up until the last few months, and so he thought he was rather good at handling the odd unpleasant scent or noise, but this was something else.   
He had barely been aware that the other person was speaking, having accidently deposited himself in his room in search for Dr. Jekyll’s, and proceeded to ramble consistently. More specifically, he was unaware of any actual words being spoken, so slurred as they were by the alcohol previously consumed on the antics of the night – antics that Hyde was less than legibly attempting to regale the poor werewolf of, draped over his bed causing Jasper to linger awkwardly by the wall – making any one word unintelligible. That by itself could have been alright, but the fellow’s voice was harsh, a hoarseness that was completely grating on the ears, the occasional shrillness that crept in feeling like an assault, though he felt it would be rude for him to flinch, so he forced himself into stillness. 

And the stench! 

Blimey! He thought he was pretty good with all that, but it was all he could do to not flee his own room, a feat that took the extent of his self-control. If only the alcohol was the worst of the unpleasantly mixing scents, something cheap but strong having been spilt on him at some stage in the evening, an odd mixture of colognes and perfumes – none of which was his own – fighting a losing battle against the sweat and other pheromones that felt very much as if it was attempting to blind him with it’s intensity. To make it worse, Hyde rolled across the bed to be closer to where Jasper stood, an all the more intense wave causing him to whine quietly in the back of his throat.  
Demanding attention, Edward stretched his arms out, his hands grabbing for the other at a distance, causing the sandy haired male to jump a little, ever the nervous fellow, squeaking a little in perhaps not the most mature way, which clearly delighted the other chap, who laughed a laugh that was shrill and unpleasant, making him flinch, mere seconds away from clasping his hands over his ears.

The situation was certainly not ideal, no, far from it, the odd little fellow being far too close to dragging him into a sensory overload that he was honestly far too tired to deal with fully, all he wanted was a quick nap but this was denied him, his bed being infested with the unpleasant man’s presence. He bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long morning.


	8. Unpleasant interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert is NOT jealous, he swears

What on earth could Henry see in him? No, Robert was not jealous, no. What a preposterous thought! No, he was merely concerned for the wellbeing of his friend who had recently engaged in association with such a reprehensible chap.

The aforementioned chap, an odd little fellow by the name of Edward Hyde, of which he had only met mere moments ago, was grinning like a fool, this obviously heightened mood was doing nothing in the way of improving his appearance, quite the contrary in face. The smile of which curled up in the corners of his eyes was so wide it damn near split his cheeks, something altogether manic in its intensity, a smile of which did not reach his eyes, a nervous panic burning within the unnatural greens of his eyes. All of this was perfectly unpleasant, however it was not this that turned his veins to ice, no, it was the metallic scent in the air that had alerted him to his presence in the first place, a liberal coating of thick blood adorning the man that had leapt in through the nearby window. Robert was a gentleman, taught to avoid such horrid folk, and more pressingly to not question it, but god was he curious.

“Wot, ain’tcha never seen a good lookin’ bloke b’fore?” the man – no, he couldn’t thing of this creature as being a man – snapped, Lanyon having been staring at him for a little too long for it to be perfectly socially acceptable. As grating on the ear and hoarse as the blond’s voice was, one thing stood out that could have brought laughter to his lips, this being the obviously put on cockney accent, so needlessly exaggerated and foreign in the mouth of the other. Quite rudely, he was sitting on the windowsill, his feet not quite reaching the floor.

“Of course I have,” came the response, the pompousness of his voice exaggerated just a little as a defensive measure, knowing that it was wholly unwise to humour the clearly unstable fellow but finding it quite impossible not to, finding himself slipping into much the same humour he shared with Henry, though he couldn’t imagine why, “Have you seen one come by here?”

“Oi!” the other growled, “I-“ Whatever it was that he was going to say, having started such a triumphant exclamation only to be cut off almost immediately as he, as he oh so dramatically flung himself from his perch, trod on the bottom of his extravagantly tattered cape, which jolted him down, his center of balance having been so thoroughly thrown that he hurtled to the ground, smashing his face into the floor with all the grace and elegance of a newborn deer. 

“Bloody hell!” hissed Hyde, attempting to pick himself up off the ground, a feat of which he was unsuccessful as his head was practically swimming due to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed during the evening, his chin proceeding to crash into the floorboards thrice before Lanyon took pity on the wretched creature and offered him a hand up. The aristocrat could not help but be surprised by how lacking in weight the other was, even with his diminished stature he seemed to be wholly unwell. Such courtesy, taken most appreciatively to rise to his feet was quickly forsaken with a swiping claw at the kindly hand.  
“Don’t bloody touch me, you damned fop!” exclaimed he, the fact he had been so perfectly willing to accept his help moments ago, his faux-cockney accent quickly abandoned.

“You needn’t thank me.” came the sarcastic response, it being all that he could do to keep the sigh from his voice.  
“Get fucked.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” 

The look the shorter fellow gave him was so dripping with smugness he was almost shocked by how much he wished to remove such an expression from his unpleasant face. But he was a gentleman, and this was hardly the time or place to fall into fisticuffs.

“Now, if you are quite done with being an insufferable wanker, I’m sure that Henry is waiting and wondering what is keeping me from his side for so long.” This was more said to play for a reaction than in any actual seriousness.

Poor Harry! He’d surely die of fright if the man slipped into his chambers in such a ghastly state – Lanyon, however, would very much like to avoid the thought of Edward engaging in any sort of chamber slipping with the doctor involved – and he couldn’t stand for it. His concern, of course, being purely for the sake of his friend’s safety and emotional state and not from any sort of jealousy. Of course.

“Certainly not.” Robert stated perhaps a tad too quickly, “Not like that. I refuse to let you see him,” he paused unintentionally, “In such a horrible state. Go bath before you see him at least.”

“Nope.” chirruped the other cheerily, letting this hang in the air before taking far too many steps towards him, leaving less than an inch between their faces – a feat of which required him to go onto tiptoes – as his eyes blazed mischievously, “Not unless you were to join me, which I certainly would not complain of.”

Their faces were altogether far too close, but as Edward had said this, he made it seem as if he was going to kiss him. This was far too much for him, practically throwing the shorter chap away from him, aghast but also very much hoping that it wasn’t obvious that his face was burning up, flustered and more than a little panicked.

“Clean yourself up, sir,” said he, a sharpness of his tone, “Alone.”

With a barking laugh, Hyde recoiled just enough to land a kiss on the other’s cheek before he managed to jump away, grinning victoriously as he skipped away down the hallway, likely not intending to do what was advised of him. His steps were rather uneven and wobbly as he was clearly far too intoxicated, however Lanyon only observed for a moment or two at most before he stormed off.


	9. Unideal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe Edward Hyde had previously gotten stabbed

Well, that will be difficult to explain.

The doctor could not quite say that the silence that was usually occupied in the buzzing of the presence of his lesser and worse self was a reassurance or if it was just further expressing how absolutely unideal his situation was.  
What was this horribly unideal situation, you may ask? Why, our poor Dr. Jekyll had just awoken from a fitful slumber of which he felt no better rested for it, his mind fuzzy and memories addled, and while all of these were inconveniences he had experienced on perhaps far too many times in the past, what was worrying him most of all was the horribly excruciating would taking up a worryingly large portion of the back of his hand, still weeping a thin trail of blood, the stains on the bedsheets and surrounds, and even his clothes suggesting that it had been worse than it was now.

“What in the blue blazes did you do?” the wounded man hissed out through gritted teeth, the damn thing beginning to sting up something serious.

The injury looked like a stab wound, but surely Hyde was not so idiotic and reckless that he would allow himself to get stabbed, was he? Would he? Truth be told, Henry wouldn’t put it past him, though by gods did he wish that this level of absolute stupidity was something that he hadn’t come to expect.

…

Thankfully he had taken precautions in the past – not wanting to make the same mistake twice, and having to explain why he was sneaking through the building, bleeding and hiding, though this was far worse than the mere scraps that had littered his body in the past – and had taken a small but well stocked medicinal pack into his room, and so it was mere moments before he was able to traverse the halls with a faux smile plastered so skilfully to his face, a façade of pleasantries hiding the immense discomfort that he was in, the throbbing of his hand demanding its presence known from under the gloves that hid the bandaging.

“Master Hyde?!” 

It would be no under-exaggeration to say that he felt his heart skip several beats. 

“Oh! Henry!” Rachel exclaimed, rounding the corner at such a speed that she near collided with the man. This said, his smile, in all its falsities, never wavered.

“Good morning, Rachel, what has you dashing about at such an hour?” Admittedly it was a wee bit later than called for such phrasings, however due to the fact he had only awoken a handful of moments ago, so it was a perfectly legitimate statement in his eyes.

“You haven’t seen Edward this morning, have you?” The clear panic in her tone was worrying to say the least.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t say I have. Whatever is the matter?” So talented was he when it came to feigning perfect innocence, could one truly know if even he was aware in the perfectly crisp lies that ran from his silver tongue.

“Well, I just ran into Grifin, quite literally mind you, you can see less and less of him as every day goes by. Did you know that? That he’s taken to experimenting on himself now too? Oh, of course you do! Silly me, I –“

“Rachel, you’re rambling.” Jekyll cut her off before she got too caught up in her off-topic ramblings, which only served to further show just how emotionally agitated she was.

“Yes, quite. Well, as I said, I ran into Griffin and he told me that he saw Mr. Hyde sneaking up to your office and he was bleeding!” As she spoke, her eyes stretched so wide that it gave her a similar appearance to both a startled owl and a pair of dinner plates – he wasn’t quite sure of which comparison he thought was the better fit – and she had paused for a dramatic effect, “So now I have to find him so that I can patch him up! I can’t have him running about hurt, and he certainly can’t look after himself! Especially not injured!” 

It wasn’t until she had said this that he was even aware that she was lugging around an excessively large box of medical supplies, more than likely sharing the occupants of his own smaller and more practical one.

“I wouldn’t discredit him so soon, he is more competent than you give him credit for you know?” said he, the perfect level of expertly crafted concern in his voice as he said this.

“Do you know him?” 

“Fair point.”

“Now, if you don’t know where he is, he could be anywhere! I don’t have the time to lollygag with you all day when we have a bleeding child on the premises!”

With this said, she was off as suddenly as she had come, scurrying off in search of a man that the doctor was quite sure that she would be unable to find. Letting the smile falter just that little bit, he turned heel and was away in the opposite direction, so briefly pondering what precisely he-as-Hyde had done to warrant being stabbed in the hand of all places.

“I am not a child.” Even unseen, simply a voice in the back of his mind, there was no doubt that Edward was pouting in the most childish way imaginable.


	10. Seeing is believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin is a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please suggest things you want me to write!!!!

Shit shit shit! 

The door knocked again, the person on the other side clearly not buying into his silence, a silence of which he thought he was maintaining quite well, making the room sound perfectly empty. Well, he hoped would make it seem empty as he was in a bit of a pickle and would rather not have someone barging in before he managed to work his way out of the right mess he got himself into.

“Would you mind terribly if you would open the door?” The extent of the pleasantness in the woman’s statement was exhausted in the phrasing, her tone coated in a liberal amount of impatience.

“Room’s empty, come back later.” Mr. Griffin said after a moment, his speaking proving this not to be the case.

“If the room were empty,” Ms. Virginia Ito began, humouring him a wee bit, “Then would now not be the opportune time to fetch my belongings?”

“No.”

It wasn’t as if he was denying her access to the room just for the fun of it. No, he wished that were the case but instead he had made one foolish decision too many and was paying for his enthusiasm.  
In a spark of what he had assumed to be a spark of genius, he had chosen to test his serum on himself – and there was a certain man in the society who could speak from experience the dangers of this so he wouldn’t make the same mistake as he, if only Griffin had thought to ask – and as a result lost the visibility of his left leg.  
Quite the gruesome result too, mind you, because while his experiments on animals simply had them fade away from sight entirely, on a larger subject – himself – it was so much worse. It was not immediate at all, nor was it regular. Rather horrifically, it was his skin to be the first to lose visibility. Just the skin, nothing else.  
Have you seen the workings of your leg going about its business before? No? No, Griffin doesn’t recommend it.   
The sight of his muscles twitching and working was almost enough to cause the Disapparative Biochemist to lose his lunch. Thank heavens that didn’t last for all that long. His bone was the last thing to go, having vanished mere moments before the door began to be knocked at. 

It felt weird walking about when he couldn’t see one of the limbs that were undergoing the task, it really did his head in, you know? He could feel his leg so he knew it wasn’t completely gone, but he couldn’t see it. Technically he could see this as a partial victory, partial of course due to its effect only taking to one part of his body. A partial success was not a full success and so he was not satisfied, nor was he sure if the appendage would return to its previous state of visibility.  
Shit.

At a third knock on the door, he sighed, relenting more so in the hopes that he could get some sort of assistance – or at least a second opinion – on how to rectify the tomfoolery he had so successfully flummoxed.  
“Can you help me if I let you in?”  
“I’ll see what I can do, but later, I do have things to do.” she paused, “Things of which you continue to hinder.”

“I, uh, don’t think you’ll see anything later.” If he didn’t try to make light of the situation it would feel so much worse. This was said as he regarded the now invisible leg of which was, one would assume, protruding from his rolled up trouser leg.

“What do –“ Her question died on her lips as she entered the room, thoroughly pleased to be granted access at last, a feeling which quickly melted into shock, “Jack, what the hell did you do?”


	11. Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Hyde did not mean to exist at the moment
> 
> Super short, sorry

What?

Something felt so dreadfully wrong. He couldn’t quite put a finger on precisely what it was that was wrong, but there was definitely something that was going balled up.  
With a sigh, he brushed his fingers though his hair. Oddly enough, it hurt to do so. Specifically, he stabbed himself in the forehead with nails that he did not realise were suddenly so much longer than they should be. Untangling his fingers from his hair seemed significantly longer than it had been moments ago.  
Crap.  
He looked down at his hands, his unpleasant situation proven to be true.  
Henry Jekyll made an effort to keep his nails neat, short, and well-polished, but these were not the nails he was looking at. In fact, he’d hardly call these nails, more akin to talons than anything, long, black talons that seemed far more too sharp. The hands they belonged to did not belong to him either. He could recognise the back of his hands like, well, the back of his hand and so he knew that the pale, small hands that were twitching just a little did not belong to him, but instead to Edward Hyde.

But when did he transform?

There had been none of the pain, the discomfort that came of his body being distorted, twisted into a different form, but here he was. Edward Hyde was sitting on the couch without any warning. 

To make matters worse, it was the middle of the day, and to get to his clothes he would have to navigate around the insistent swarm of people who seemed far too determined to get in his way, making the trip to Jekyll’s office – specifically Jekyll’s, since that’s where he stored a spare change of close if they were to transform, the joint office nor Lanyon’s being of any help to him whatsoever - practically impossible. 

Goddamn it, Jekyll, why’d he have to made everything so bloody difficult?

The tantalising scent of a good wine – a good wine! Not any of that cheap shit they serve up under the guise of quality down in the nearby pubs, not that it stopped him from ordering it – was certainly getting to him. He could easily down a glass or few before he could slip away, work out why in the left hell he was in existence, then have time to actually have some bloody fun before Jekyll forces himself back into dominance.  
The moment of considering doing this was not even completed before he was pouring himself a glass. Red wine, a pleasant fruity aroma, certainly the kind that would leave a perfectly pleasant burning in the back of one’s throat.

“Jekyll!”

With all the artfulness in the world, he managed to jump out of his skin and spill the wine he was pouring. Splashing it onto the carpet in a way that would certainly leave an unpleasant stain.

“I’m sorry I took so long!”

Fucking hell, Jekyll. Why must he have been waiting in Lanyon’s office?


	13. Coin Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jekyll has a bonding experience while channeling stress, Hyde isn't as much of a bastard as he claims

It had taken a good few moments before the doctor had become aware of the wide-eyed attention that he was receiving. Ordinarily he was far too aware of even the most distracted glance from strangers on the street, but clearly this was not the case at this very moment. 

“How’d you do that?” an awed voice asked, and while the doctor had not quite noticed the farm lad – the wolfpup, as Hyde had taken to referring to him as in the last few days – even arriving, he had gotten close enough to where he had sat to be watching his hands in fascination

And why was Jasper Kaylock watching the good Dr. Henry Jekyll’s hands with such awestruck captivation, I’m sure you are rather curious to know? 

Well, until he’d been dragged from his distracted thoughts he had been dancing a coin about between his fingers, letting it twirl it’s way across his knuckles before weaving back briefly out of sight with an artful skill that was not so much the kind one would liken to a surgeon, or anyone of any sort of doctoring profession, but indeed that of a magician. But alas he cut short this mastery of matter when he realised Jasper was there, holding it tragically still in his palm. 

“I’d gotten into the habit of it back in college,” he replied rather nostalgically, “It served as a distraction for myself when things were becoming more overwhelming, and in turn as a delight to my fellows.” 

At the cryptozoologist’s little gasp of “Woah…!” Henry let the coin drop from his palm to be held in between his fingers.  
“Would you care to learn how?” the doctor offered with a mischievous twinkle in the depths of his oddly maroon eyes – Were they always such a colour? He couldn’t quite recall, but they couldn’t have been –there was unmistakable earnestness in his smile – When had his smiles become so false? A painted-on pleasantry in which even he has almost dared entertain the fancy of sincerity – and this had lit up his fingers with a light, a life that he had been lacking for far too long.

“Could you, sir?” the sandy haired fellow asked, his not bothering to tap and check his excitement being so alien to Jekyll’s and this delighted the man so. 

“Yes, of course,” came the chirrupy reply, “It will take a bit of getting used to, I’m afraid, for it requires an odd sort of dexterity that does not come easily. I recall how exasperated I would become when I couldn’t quite get it.”

An enthusiastic Jasper pulled up a chair alongside the man, finding himself to be practically vibrating with excitement, more than ready to learn the wee coin trick that the good doctor had exhibited with such an ease.  
But the shadows had grown long far faster than it had taken for the werewolf to get a basic grasp on it all and not send the coin tumbling off to heaven only knew where. 

Bloody hell!  
Was the sun always so god damned bright?

It had been precisely three days, thirteen hours, nine minutes, and forty five seconds since Henry Jekyll had taught Jasper Kaylock how to dance coins upon his hand, and thirty seven minutes and four seconds since the doctor had ceased to exist in favour of his supposed assistant having a chance to savour the delightful, gloriously wonderful experiences of existence.   
But god, daylight was bright. 

Any lamenting that he might have been engaging in for his poor, pitiful self was cut off by a rather loud noise that sent his lip up into a curl of displeasure.

A small child was crying her eyes out, and over something so terribly trivial as dropping her ice cream before she’d barely had the chance to enjoy it.

Now. Edward Hyde may have been the Spirit of London at Night, the beast that lay inside all of mankind, the embodiment of sin and debauchery, but he was no monster. It would be so dreadfully easy to turn on his heels in a fabulous and dramatic billow of clothes and stalk off to see what mischief may find home in the daylight, as unfamiliar to him as if it were a new city altogether. 

But he didn’t.

When one would think of Edward Hyde interacting with children, one would immediately jump to the worst possible of placed. Trampling, anger, a complete disregard of common decency.   
But he simply crouched down to the height of the child. This was not a difficult feat.

“Oi, child.” Edward barked, trying and not completely failing to sound kinder than his customary, “You see this?” The blond held up a single coin, more than enough to purchase a replacement of the fallen ice cream cone.

The sniffling child looked over to him, and while she couldn’t meet his eyes – even some adults had trouble with this, they were far too green, too bright, too unnatural for their own good – she nodded.

“If you can guess the right hand, it’s yours and you can get yourself another, but if you guess wrong, you don’t. Understand?” 

When the lass nodded her confirmation of this, he started off simply, twirling and weaving the coin between the fingers of one hand. This was all well and good, but it was dreadfully easy, and so he let the coin wander absently between both hands after a moment or so of showing off what he could do with it singlehandedly – he had to take every opportunity to show off when he could after all – making it harder and harder to follow, even adding the occasional seemingly spontaneous, distracted toss between the two.   
When Hyde was convinced his audience was sufficiently lost he fell still, holding his hands as two downside fists.

“Which hand will it be, lass?” he asked, his eyes sparkling enthusiastically. 

By this stage, the child had stopped her sobs and was, in fact, even going so far as to giggle at the theatrical antics this strange little man was performing for her benefit. With a mostly dramatized expression of serious contemplation, the little girl pointed to his left hand.

“Shall we find out then?” he asked, and when she had moved her hand underneath his own, he let the coin drop down into it, “Guess you got lucky.”

Rising to his feet, he nonchalantly and in a successfully subtle way, he dropped the coin he’d snuck into his right hand into his pocket. He had made sure that no matter what hand she had selected she would have been right.

He wasn’t always a complete bastard after all.

With the girl’s excited exclamation of, “Than’ ‘ou, sir!”, he performed a rather excessively dramatic bow before turning to trot off.  
He did pause for one moment to look back, offering a smile that perhaps a tad too wide,  
“Don’t go dropping this one, you hear?”

The child’s laughter was still audible in his incredibly sensitive ears and he hurried off on his way, needing to engage in some sort of mischief to make up for his act of kindness.


End file.
